Guardian Angels
by fiftyshadesofdestiel
Summary: 'I don't care if heaven won't take me back / I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe' - Guardian Angel AU where Dean's life gets saved by a stranger and where Castiel gets expelled from heaven. Eventual Destiel. Trigger warning: suicide attempt. Rating for language, for now - it may go up.
1. Knockin' On Heaven's Door

_Hi everyone! Thank you for visiting my very first fanfiction. I'll try to keep this author's note short, but there are a few things I'd like to say before you start reading.  
><em>_I have already written a few chapters, so I'll be updating regularly. But, as you know, life can get very busy; I'll try to let you know on forehand when that happens. And when I run out of new chapters, the updates might be a bit less frequent. I'll try not to let that happen, though!  
><em>_Also, English is not my native language, but the story has been beta'd by the wonderful Logan, so that won't be a problem when you're reading. Hopefully.  
><em>_And, of course, I do not own anything Supernatural-related, except for the idea of this story. Neither do I own any of the lyrics I will be using for this fic._

* * *

><p>I.<p>

_It's gettin' dark, too dark to see  
>I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door<em>

_That long black cloud is comin' down  
>I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door<em>

It had been another long day. Tired, Dean found himself walking towards one of the local bars. He hadn't been there very often, but the sight of his usual spot disgusted him. Laughing people, happy couples; at this very moment, he couldn't stand the mere thought of having to spend the remainder of the evening among all those people. They only would remind him of what he could have had.

The bar he entered had a somewhat quieter public. Sure, there was the occasional laugh, but most of the people just kept to themselves. He liked that.

Dean sat down at the bar and ordered a whiskey. The barmaid winked at him and quickly filled the bottom of a glass with the golden liquid. As she handed it over to him, she tried to strike up a conversation.  
>"So, what brings a handsome man like you to this bar in the middle of the week?" She leaned towards him on the bar, giving him a small, flirty smile. Dean didn't smile back; he merely downed the drink and smashed the glass on the bar. The barmaid didn't even flinch; she was clearly used to rougher guests.<p>

"Life," Dean belatedly answered her after the burning feeling in his throat had somewhat disappeared. The girl smiled understandingly and refilled his glass.  
>"Gotcha. It's always life, isn't it."<p>

Dean grunted in something that could have been agreement, and soon he had another empty glass in front of him. The barmaid had disappeared to the other side of the bar, smiling sweetly to a young boy. Judging by his nervous demeanour, he'd never been to a bar before in his life.

"Hey," Dean shouted to get the attention of the barmaid. The alcohol in his system had finally managed to loosen the knot in his stomach a bit. When the girl turned around, he smiled a lopsided smile. She returned it, positively beaming at him. She winked at the nervous boy and walked back to Dean.

"Another one, sweetie?" she asked, not even waiting for his answer. In no time, he was holding another royally filled glass of whiskey.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said with the most charming smile he could muster, and held his glass a little higher in an imaginary toast.

"Very welcome, sir," she replied. She leaned forward on the bar again. Dean noticed it emphasized her cleavage, but decided it wouldn't be very polite to keep staring, so he sipped his drink and looked back at her face. Blue eyes, blonde hair. Yep, definitely pretty. She let her hair curl around her finger as she spoke again.

"So, life wasn't it. Is this the reason you're not at home tonight? With, let's say, your girlfriend?" Her tone was teasing and clearly asking for more information about his personal life. Any man would have been flattered with the flirty attention of a beautiful woman. But Dean froze, his eyes focusing on something behind the girl in front of him, his smile slowly disappearing.

It was silent for a long, awkward moment. When the barmaid was about to speak, Dean cut her short by abruptly finishing his glass and croaking, "Another." She kept silent and did as commanded.

The rest of the night went by in a blur of cheap whiskey and beer. He also did his best to ignore the knot in his stomach, which instead of loosening, tightened with every drink. Dean felt as if he would snap any moment. The opportunity came when a man sat down next to him, accidently brushing past his shoulder. Dean, who had been resting his head in his hands, looked up with watery eyes.  
>"What the fuck, dude."<p>

The man rose an eyebrow and scoffed, "Easy there, fella. Didn't mean to interrupt your beauty sleep."

An adrenaline rush took over Dean's alcohol infatuated mind. He got up from the barstool, knocking it over in the abrupt movement, and stared furiously at the other man's face. He was big, fat and ugly, Dean thought, and he definitely did not deserve the pleasure of insulting him. So Dean hit him in the face.

"Unlike you, I don't need a friggin' beauty sleep," he snapped, not noticing that the entire bar had gone silent. Slowly, the big fat ugly man rose from his chair. Only now Dean realised that the man wasn't actually big and fat. He was gigantic and muscled. He swallowed and subconsciously took a step back as the giant towered above Dean. Then, a wicked smile appeared on Dean's face.  
>"So, watcha gonna do about it, huh? Too afraid to fight back?"<p>

The man growled and stepped closer. Everybody in the bar was now looking at them, and the anxious sound of whispering filling the place.  
>"I'm giving you one chance, you pathetic dipshit," the giant said with a low voice. "Shut up, sit down, finish your drink and go home."<p>

The smile froze on Dean's face, and before he knew it, he lashed out again, his fist connecting with the giant's jaw. "I'm not fucking pathetic, you fucking-" he couldn't finish his sentence before his world went tumbling down. One second, he was speaking and the next, he was on the ground, grasping his nose and groaning loudly. A muffled "fuck" escaped from his mouth. In reply, he felt something cold pressed against his neck. He opened his eyes to stare directly in the eyes of the giant. He was way too fucking close.

"Get the fuck off me, Cartman," Dean managed to say. The cold thing suddenly felt a lot sharper than before, and when Dean looked down, he realized it was a knife.  
>"Oh, so you're gonna kill me, huh? You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he breathed, chuckling manically. "Yeah, ya know, why don't you just do just that. Got nothing to live for anyway." He was silent for a moment, not making any sound except for his accelerated breathing. He noticed that the ugly face in front of him was blurred. He wanted to wipe his eyes, but a few bystanders had pressed his arms to the ground.<p>

"Come on, just fucking do it!" he suddenly shouted. He jerked his hands loose from the bystanders and took the hand that was holding the blade, but before he could press any further, the other man, and thus the knife, disappeared. Dean looked up and saw the man standing again, disgust clearly readable on his face.

"You _are_ pathetic. Go home, jerk."

Dean blinked and saw the man walk away. He closed his eyes for a moment. He just wanted to sleep, not being to feel anything, just for a moment. But before he knew it, somebody had dragged him up and, while he was spluttering that he could stand up by himself just fine, he was dragged outside and dropped onto the cold, hard ground.

The person stood there, hesitantly. "You owe the bar some money, bro."  
>Dean attempted to crawl up, but both the sky and the earth were spinning too much. He decided to try again later. "Not your bro," he muttered.<br>The person sighed and turned around. "Yeah, whatever. At least try not to let yourself get hit by a car or something." The door opened, closed, and Dean was alone.

He just lay there for a few moments, eying the stars above him. It was only when a dark cloud covered the tiny little lights that he made an attempt to rise. He grabbed a nearby car and dragged himself up. He pretended not to notice the piercing sound of the alarm that had gone off at his touch and, after stumbling over his own feet maybe once or twice, he began his way home on foot. He was aware that he could have taken a cab, but he felt like he needed some air. A lot of it, actually. The encounter in the bar had invited the depression that had loomed on the edge of Dean's life to get a better grasp on him. Until now, he had always been able to laugh away his pain, to find something worth living yet another day for. But now, with the alcohol slowing down his mind until it was a sombre, black mess, he just couldn't anymore. Every step he took tightened the knot in his stomach that he had grown familiar with and pulled his thoughts farther down the black hole, circling around one word.

_Lisa_.

He could remember the way she would smile at him. The way she had kissed him, encouraged him—the way she would just _understand_ without questioning. Her whole existence had brought so much light in his life that, now that the source had been ripped out of it, he could barely see through the darkness. Dean stopped walking as memories flooded his mind once again, seeking balance in a metal bar behind him. _A chaste smile, eyes suddenly looking away; bright lights, a scream, squealing brakes followed by a crushing sound. Blood; pain. Darkness._

His hands tightened on the metal bar that, now he had forced his eyes open to take in his surroundings, he realized was the railing of a bridge. He laughed humourlessly. _How ironic. _He then turned around to stare across the dark river. As far he could look, he saw darkness; it was only because he heard the sound of streaming water that he knew that it was actually a river and not some portal to hell itself.

Or maybe it was.

Dean's heart skipped a beat and then continued more rapidly than before when he realized what he was thinking. His hands grasped the railing more firmly; it suddenly seemed so easy to get rid of all his problems. To finally stop his never-ending pain. To, perhaps, see Lisa once more. He nodded quietly to himself. This was it. It wasn't like he had anything to live for anyway—with his wife, mother and father death, and—  
><em><br>Sammy_.

His thoughts became a bit more clear for a moment. No. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this to his little brother; they used to be so close. _Used to be_. Until he decided to go live at the other side of friggin' America. Dean's shoulders slumped and he rested his head on the railing. Of course, there was the occasional call, but they had grown apart – there was no denying that. Now he thought about it, the last time he'd heard from Sam was about a week ago. Something about food. He couldn't remember.  
>Dean sighed deeply, and with shaking hands, he reached for his cell phone. With some trouble, he unlocked the screen and blinked at the too bright light. With his eyes narrowed in concentration, he typed the message.<p>

To: Sammy 2:35 AM

im sprry sammy

He stared at it for some longer and then, with a restrained sob, clicked 'send'. Yes. This was definitely it. The end of Dean Winchester's life. Without looking back, he put his mobile back in his pocket, and carefully swung his legs over the railing. Somehow, even though he knew it was all going to end anyway, he didn't want to fall by accident. It had to be his own choice. After a bit of a struggle, he stood there at the other side of the railing, breathing rapidly and staring intently at the pitch black water. His hands were clenched around the railing, his primal survival instincts kicking into action despite the alcohol clouding his head and his extreme desire to just stop everything.

He was afraid. His breathing nearly turned into hyperventilating and his hands hurt from clawing so damn hard into the railing. He vaguely realized that he was making an immense redundant mistake. For a moment, he just wanted to turn around and go home. But he couldn't. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't. If he'd try to turn around and climb back to safer grounds, he'd most certainly lose his balance and die anyway.

"Just jump, loser," shouted someone from a distance. A few people laughed; footsteps faded away.

Dean's fear suddenly dulled, and all he felt was the empty black hole in his stomach. The stranger was right. He should just give in. He closed his eyes, and let himself lean a bit more forward, his hands still holding the railing but no longer gripping it like his life depended on it. Even though, of course, it did.

He breathed in, and out. His hands started shaking. In and out. He felt them become slippery from sweat. _In and out._ His right hand began to lose grip. _In and-_

"Please, don't," a low, soft voice sounded suddenly. Dean almost let go, just out of pure shock since the voice was so near, but instead he tightened his grip around the metal bar.

"Fuck off," he croaked in reply. He closed his eyes and counted to three. The other person hadn't said anything in response by then. He leaned a bit more forward, his hands quickly losing his re-established grip.

"Dean, please. You know you don't want to do this." The voice sounded more urgent now.

"You have no idea what I want," Dean breathed. "But let me tell you. I just want to leave this fucking misery that calls itself a life. Why don't you just go away and let me die in peace, will you?"

"No, I will not." The voice sounded determined, almost to the point of light anger. The hand that clasped his shoulder and pulled him back against the railing took Dean by surprise. His head still spinning, he felt like this was the point he'd lose his balance and fall to a certain death. But he didn't fall. The stranger behind him held him with almost inhuman strength.

"Why are you doing this," Dean whispered, suddenly sounding broken.

It was silent for a moment, but suddenly bright, vivid memories flooded Dean's mind. He saw Charlie and himself at their first Comic Con, both cracking a shit eating grin as they showed each other their loot. He saw Sammy drinking his first beer, first pulling a face but gradually starting to enjoy it to the point of an immense giggle fit. He saw Bobby who, ruefully smiling, gave him his very first and definitely most awesome birthday cake ever – even though it was practically inedible because of the thick, black crust. He saw Garth and Benny and Kevin and the times that had made him feel like he could do anything.

As abruptly as the flood of memories started, it stopped. The glorious, light feeling faded into fear as he remembered that he was still standing on a ledge, the only thing securing him not to fall being the hand of a stranger on his shoulder.

The voice of said stranger broke the tense silence.  
>"Please, allow me to help you."<p>

Dean nodded wordlessly.

An arm came into his vision, wavering there for a few seconds, until Dean realized he was probably supposed to take it. He let go of the railing with one hand, and held onto the arm, probably bruising the stranger by clenching his nails into his skin so hard.  
>"You can turn around now. I've got you."<p>

Slowly, Dean did as the other man told him. He turned around, holding on to the man's arms desperately. Soon, he stumbled back on the bridge. Letting out a shivery breath, he felt his legs go numb. He would have broken down if it wasn't for the strange man, who still hadn't let go of his arms. Dean leaned slightly forward into the stranger's arms, his forehead now resting on the other's shoulder. He didn't know how or why, but somehow, here on a deserted bridge in the middle of the night and with his only companion being a strange man he had never met before, he felt safer than ever before. He cried soundlessly.

He didn't know how long they stood there, Dean holding on tightly to the stranger's upper arms, with the other man returning the grip as he made sure that he wouldn't fall down. It was when Dean finally stopped crying and his breathing slowed down that he heard the other man's voice again.

"Let's go home."

Dean nodded into his shoulder. He felt so tired suddenly, now the adrenaline caused by the previous events had completely disappeared.  
>He never knew how they reached his home. One second, he was standing on a bridge; the next, it seemed, he was on his bed, about to fall asleep. The only thing he remembered was the brightest blue he had ever seen.<p>

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><p><em>All right, that's it for today. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. I'd be eternally grateful if you somehow let me know that you're actually reading the story, by leaving any kind of review, favourite, follow, or whatever this website offers. There will be an update next week, or maybe even sooner!<br>__The next chapter will have the song 'Silent Lucidity' by Queensryche as prologue._


	2. Silent Lucidity

.

II.

_I will be watching over you  
>I am gonna help you see it through<br>I will protect you in the night  
>I am smiling next to you<em>

_In silent lucidity_

"Hello, Castiel."

"Naomi."

"I suppose you know why you're here."

"I… I think I do. Yes."  
>"Then why don't you tell me."<br>Silence.  
>"Castiel."<p>

"… I saved my human last night."

"That indeed is the reason why you're here. But please, be more specific. How did you rescue your human?"

"I… I stopped him from taking his own life."  
>"Exactly. You revealed yourself to them, spoke to them and even <em>touched <em>them in order to implement your memories into his mind. Are you aware of the consequences this inappropriate behaviour will bring to you?"

Silence.  
>"Castiel, please. Be a bit more responsive."<p>

"I'm sorry."

"That's the problem. I do not think you are."

Silence.

"You were explicitly told to never reveal yourself to your human _– in any circumstances_. I understand that their actions startled you, but-"

"I was only doing what I had to do! I protected him from himself and thus saved him."  
>"You saved them by breaking the rules, Castiel. We can't allow this."<p>

"My human most likely does not have any recollections from past night's events; he was not in his right mind at the time."  
>"It is true that they weren't in their right mind, and that's the only reason why we decided not to waste you. We will have to punish you, though."<p>

A sigh, and a nod.  
>"I understand."<p>

"Good. Your grace will be taken from you and you shall walk among human kind until you have reconsidered your actions."

"… What about Dean?"

A slightly annoyed sigh.

"_Your human_ will be fine. I will have another guardian appointed to them as soon as possible. Now, prepare yourself for your fall, Castiel. I hope to see you back in Heaven soon."

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><p>An explosion of sounds, scents, colours and feelings. Voices, light, the rush of cars; a burning sensation in his belly, a dull smell, a slightly hurting throat. <em>His head, it's spinning <em>– a cold sensation on the palm of his hand; is he holding something?

Castiel breathed in and out, trying to calm down and cope with the sudden overflow of feelings and observations. It didn't work. A feeling of unease; panic. He looked around. _Where am I? _Fear. So many moving vehicles, so many humans surrounding him and the sounds they were all producing suffocated him. The cars started honking, someone pushed his shoulder.

"… green! Walk, you dickbag."

He realized that the thing he had been holding was an object that he remembered Dean calling a traffic light. He was in a city then, close to a road. No. He was standing on the middle of a road and should be walking to the other side. He pushed himself away from the traffic light and placed one foot after the other. The cars. They kept on honking. Another person bumped into him; a piercing scent entered his nose. Perfume, deodorant, eau de cologne? It didn't matter; he just had to keep on walking. But why, he wondered, did the cars start moving forwards? He was still on the road and yet they were getting closer. More honking. More panic. A human body could not handle the impact of a metal object this size crushing into it, he knew. The end was in sight, though. He had to walk only a few more meters to reach the other side of the road. He fastened his pace. A car abruptly stopped at a few inches from his leg, causing Castiel to jump. The person who had been driving the car stuck his head outside, so Castiel stopped walking. This was what people did if they wanted to communicate, as far as he knew.

"C'mon, I ain't got all day!" the human shouted, and, as if to put more power behind his words, he honked twice.

"I- I'm sorry," Castiel stuttered and quickly ran towards the safety of the pavement.

He had no idea what to do next.

He'd never been in a human vessel before. He knew what to expect from humans, though. Of course he did. He had been observing them and silently living amongst them all his existence. But he had never known what it was like to experience emotions this fierce and vivid; to feel hunger or thirst or to feel exhaustion. He couldn't possibly name everything he was experiencing right now, or know how to fulfil the needs as to make the negative feelings disappear.

People kept bumping into him and yelling profanities at him. He realized he shouldn't just stand there but find somewhere quieter to overthink everything. He let the crowd lead him in his motions, following the humans to their unknown destinations.

After minutes of walking, Castiel noticed a gate that led to a green environment. As he walked through the gate, the sound of the chaos behind him finally dimmed until it was just a soft buzz in the distance. He sighed in relief, and slowly walked further, following the path that led through the park. Soon, he neared a small pond. He sat down on a nearby bench and stared at the water. For the first time, he saw his human form. Dark hair, blue eyes, his cheeks covered in a short stubble. Still looking at his reflection in the water, he reached up to touch his face, slowly exploring the new, unknown textures of human skin and hair. He was wearing a beige, long coat. _A trench coat_, he was reminded by a little voice in the back of his head. He must have heard the word before on one of his visits to earth. He frowned lightly, letting his hand drop back on his lap. It worried him that he couldn't remember the exact occasion, location and time that he had heard about this phenomenon. Not too long ago he would have remembered anything he had ever seen, been able to recall the tiniest detail of a memory. But, he realized, the human mind and memory were very limited.

He was distracted from his train of thought as someone sat down next to him on the bench. He looked up, to see a female human who was about the age of Bobby, the man who had been like a father to Dean when his own had passed away. She smiled at him; he quickly glanced down at his reflection in the water again, not knowing how he should respond to this kind of human interaction. He discovered that he was wearing a blue tie. Curiously, he lifted the tie a bit so that he could study it.

"I'm sorry, it's probably not any of my business. But aren't you cold?" The voice of the female sounded concerned.

Castiel blinked and dropped the tie, thinking about the question. Actually, he _was_ cold. He glanced at his fingers, which he now noticed were swollen and red.  
>"I am," he answered truthfully.<p>

"Maybe you should consider wearing another coat then," the female said. She sounded friendly. "It's really cold for this time of the year, and that fabric seems so thin."

Again, the woman was right, Castiel realized as he studied his coat a bit closer. The fabric was indeed very thin. It was probably designed as some kind of summer jacket.

"Unfortunately, I do not own a coat fit for this weather," Castiel replied.

"Then why don't you buy one?" the human suggested.

Castiel was silent for a moment. He was aware that this whole society revolved around money and property, so he imagined that if he told her that he owned absolutely nothing at the moment, it would invoke negative reactions.

It was the truth, though.

"I… I can't buy anything. I don't have any money," he admitted, preparing himself for a negative remark of some sorts, like one of the profanities he had gotten thrown upon him when he was only trying to cross a street.

The female just frowned slightly.

"How come? You seem like a decent young man. Did you gamble your money?"

"What? Gamble? I… No. I do not gamble." Castiel sighed and rested his head in the palms of his hands. "It's… my family. I broke the rules thus they took everything I had. I will get it back, eventually, though. They're not bad… people."

The woman's frowned deepened. "So just because you made a mistake, they robbed you of everything you ever had? I can tell you one thing, dear. Those are not good people." She put a comforting hand on Castiel's shoulder. He was not used to this kind of closeness though, and flinched back, causing the woman to quickly retreat her hand. "Don't you have anyone else to go back to?" she asked softly.

Castiel shook his head, staring back at his own reflection. The look he saw on his face reminded him of what Dean had looked like the past few months. Worn-out and miserable. He suddenly felt very guilty that he couldn't be there for him anymore.

"There is one person, though," he said softly. "But I do not think it's possible for me to see him. I don't know how to reach him."

"Don't you know where he lives?"

"I think I do." Castiel remembered the signs he always saw when he entered the city. "He lives in Lawrence, Kansas."

The woman laughed softly. "That's quite the city, dear. Do you have an address?"

Castiel dug in his memory but couldn't possibly remember the street Dean lived on. He shrugged helplessly.

"I'm sorry, I don't. I could probably find it if I were there, but I just can't seem to remember now."

The woman clearly hesitated before continuing.

"I was going to visit my kids in Osage City today anyway. If you want, I can take you with me and drop you off in Lawrence. It isn't that much of a detour."

Castiel looked at her, his eyes widened.

"That… that would be amazing. You're an incredibly kind woman. Thank you."

She smiled.

"It's all right. I'll just be dropping you off, though. You'll have to look for your friend yourself."

"I understand," said Castiel, nodding, a hesitant smile appearing on his face. He had never had a friend before; now Dean, even though the female didn't know him, was equated to a friend of his, he suddenly felt immensely proud. "When are we leaving?"

The woman chuckled and rose from the bench. "We can leave now, if you want. I don't think my children will mind if I show up a bit earlier than expected."

Castiel followed her to her car, which appeared to be an example of what he remembered Dean calling a 'Tin Snail'. It was small and red and Castiel loved it immediately.

"It's not much, but it'll get us to our destination," the woman spoke as she saw him eying the car.

"I think your car looks wonderful," Castiel said in return.

"Right," the woman chuckled, and got in the car. Castiel just stood there for a second, wondering what he should do. Yes, he should get in the car, that much was obvious. But how was he supposed to open the door without making fool of himself? He cursed himself for not paying attention when the female or anyone else for that matter had opened the door of a car. Slowly, he reached out to a silver object that stuck out of the door, and turned it. It was not very effective. He tried to turn it the other way around and then noticed that he was supposed to _push _it down. The door opened, and Castiel got in the car. The human was eying him questioningly.

"Are you having second thoughts?"

"No, I am not. Why are you asking?" replied Castiel curiously, and then, a slight hint of fear popping up in his stomach, he added, "Are you?"

"No, I'm not having second thoughts. I just thought you were, because you were lingering outside for so long." She started the car and slowly drove away from the parking spot.

"I see." Castiel looked through the window. They were going faster now. Not as fast as he was accustomed to by using his wings of course – but for him and his new human body, it was a thrilling experience.

"You should fasten your seat belt," the woman pointed out after a minute.

Castiel blinked.

"My what? Oh… wait, yes. Of course." He looked to his right, searching for the seat belt that should be around there somewhere. He fortunately found it faster than expected, and in no time the belt was secured. Again, Castiel felt somewhat proud; he thought that maybe being human wouldn't be so difficult after all.

It was silent for a while. Castiel enjoyed himself by looking outside, curiously taking in all the different landscapes that flew by. Sometimes they would pass a village, but most of the time they were in different stages of 'The Middle of Nowhere' – again a definition he had heard Dean mutter to himself on long road trips. He had never paid much attention to his surroundings when they were on such trips. He would just silently watch Dean, attentive to every single detail of his face and sometimes globally reading his mind to see whether it was still safe for him to drive. His breath hitched as he thought back to the time that his protection hadn't been enough. He still blamed himself for overlooking the truck that seemed to have come out of nowhere and crashed two of the things that his human had loved most – his fiancé and his car.

"What's your name?" The voice of the woman suddenly broke through Castiel's thoughts. He turned back to face the woman, whose gaze was still locked on the road.

"I am Castiel," he answered, and nearly added that he was an angel of the Lord before remembering that wasn't exactly true at the moment.

"Oh, so you're the angel of Saturday?" the woman asked with a small smile. Castiel stiffened for a second, until he realized she was probably only joking. In her eyes, there would probably be no such thing as angels.

"You might be confusing me with Cassiel," he said softly, allowing his eyes to wander off to the side window again. This was not the first time he had been mistaken for the great Cassiel. "He is the angel of Saturday, as well as one of the seven Archangels. My name was destined for a mere Guardian Angel."

"Oh." The woman was silent for a long moment. Then, she flicked her eyes over to Castiel, who was staring outside, his eyes unfocused. She smiled kindly, and continued, "Well, I actually think Castiel's a beautiful name. This world could use a few more of your 'mere' Guardian Angels."

Those simple words touched Castiel more than they should have. His eyes started burning, and he swallowed with difficulty. Eventually, he managed a small, but sincere smile.  
>"Thank you."<p>

"My name is Martha, by the way," she added. Castiel nodded.

The rest of the trip went by in comfortable silence. After a bit more time riding in The Middle of Nowhere, he saw a sign that he recognized. It stated that the city Lawrence was only 20 miles away from them. His breathing accelerated in excitement. Castiel kept closely monitoring the signs they passed. The distance to Dean became smaller and smaller until they finally stopped at a square he vaguely recognized.

They both got out of the car.

"So, here we are," the woman named Martha said. Castiel nodded. "Do you think you can handle it from here by yourself?"  
>"Yes, I believe so." Castiel looked around, hoping to see something he recognized. He wasn't very successful. He looked back at the human in front of him, and smiled another small smile. "I am immensely grateful for the opportunity you offered me. Even though I can't give you anything in return at this moment, I will never forget this."<p>

Martha chuckled. "It's all right, Castiel. It was my pleasure. I hope you'll find your friend soon and that things work out for you."  
>Having said that, she stepped back in the car. Honking once and waving, she drove away from Castiel, who once again looked around and wondered where he should go next.<p>

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><p><em>I'd like to thank the four lovely persons who already favourited and  or followed this story! Really, thank you so much. You can't believe how happy a small notification popping up in my mailbox, saying someone followed my story makes me. And a special shout-out to dEnIsE tHe StRaNgE, who reviewed my story! I hope Chapter 2 didn't disappoint you. I altered the overall spacing for this chapter; do you think it's better now?_

_The next chapter will have the song Angels And Demons by Front Porch Step as prologue._


	3. Angels and Demons

.

III.

_You're the angel that gives me reason  
><em>_But I can't begin to count my demons  
><em>_Somehow you still keep me dreamin'  
><em>_You let me know my life has meaning_

Dean woke up by noon with a fierce headache and a phone filled with concerned messages and missed calls from Sam. After drinking away a tablet of paracetamol and ensuring his brother that everything was fine and he had just gotten a bit drunk the night before, he decided to take a shower. While the water streamed over his head, he tried to recall what exactly had happened last night. He started to wash his face, but stopped when he brushed past his nose; a groan escaped from his mouth. Oh, right. He had gotten into a fight at the bar and his nose had suffered from it. Fantastic.

Slowly, some other memories began to come back to him. He remembered being dragged out of the bar and some random dude talking to him. He groaned again, now from remembering that he hadn't even paid for his drinks. A black hole followed the memory of the mostly one-sided conversation. And then, a bridge. Dean frowned and cursed as he connected the alarmed texts from Sam with his recollection of the bridge. So now he was trying to kill himself when drunk? With a troubled sigh, he got out of the shower, suddenly feeling a bit sick.

The only thing that had escaped from his memory was how he even had survived climbing over the railing and back. He dried his hair, a frown seemingly permanently stuck on his features. Then he remembered something. A voice, low and concerned. Like he mattered. He stopped his movements and stared at the mirror for a while, not seeing anything. A tan coat. His frown deepened as he realized that he was somehow talked out of jumping by a complete stranger, even though he couldn't remember any of their words. But he did remember something else; a flash of the purest blue he had ever seen.

Dean ultimately decided that it was too chaotic to think about it while he was still hung-over, so he just grabbed some clothes and prepared himself for the day. After he was fully dressed, he walked into the kitchen to make some comfort food for his self-induced pity party. He was glad to find anything edible in the fridge and even more so when he found out it was bacon. He also discovered a few eggs but after breaking the shell of one and seeing the slightly questionable colour, he quickly threw them in the trash can.

With a small smile of victory, Dean suddenly remembered that he had some frozen hamburgers left in his freezer. Bacon burgers for breakfast it was, then. He put on the radio and hummed along with some sappy love song he vaguely recognized as he prepared his food. The burgers ended up to be a bit burned, but Dean still counted it as the best breakfast he had had in days.

When he sat down to devour the bacon burgers, his thoughts about yesterday slowly crept back into his mind. He was ashamed of himself; really ashamed of himself. Not only because he had been pathetic enough to provoke a fight with some random dude and afterwards had made a nearly successful attempt to end his life; he also suddenly realized how much he had neglected his friends in the past few months.

They had always been there for him, before and after the accident. They had supported Dean with phone calls and small visits. He had appreciated their efforts, but over time, he had stopped picking up his phone and started pretending he wasn't at home if anyone visited unexpectedly. He had become some kind of hermit, swallowed in self-pity and not willing to face reality. He hadn't even noticed at the time. But now, as he was eating his slightly blackened bacon burgers after a futile suicide attempt, he was shaken back into the cold reality. He needed to change his life before it was too late.

When he had finished his last burger, he took his phone and thoughtfully searched through his contacts. He had no idea if there was even someone left who still would want to talk with him after this long. He reached the end of the list, and started scrolling back, sighing wearily. He had screwed up big time. He slowed down and stared at one name hesitantly. His forefinger hovered above the screen for a few seconds. Dean desperately tried to think of a reason not to call, but eventually he forced his finger to touch the screen. He brought the phone to his ear, listening to the waiting tone.

_Beep_

He swallowed. This was stupid. He should just hang up and get a dog or something. Friends are overrated.

_Beep_

Or a canary. He really didn't feel like taking a dog out for a shit four times a day.

_Beep_

See? She wasn't going to pick up. Hanging up had never seemed like such a good idea. There was an animal shelter not so far away-

"_Dean?"_

Dean almost choked on his own spit when he heard the voice on the other side of the line.

"Uh, yeah. It's me. Heya, Charlie."

It stayed silent for a moment.

"You there?"

"_Y-yes! It's just… Wow. I almost forgot you had a phone, Dean. Or that you were even alive."_

Dean grimaced at the last part of her sentence.

"Yeah… sorry 'bout that, Charles. I guess I just needed some time for myself."

"_I noticed. We all did." _

Dean sighed and closed his eyes. He was about to make another apology when Charlie started speaking again.

"_So… You called for a reason? You ready to hang out with us again?" _

It struck Dean how hopeful she sounded.

"Yeah, ya know, that's why I called. I was wondering if you felt like watching a movie sometime this week or something?"

"_Hmm. Let me check my calendar." _ He heard a shuffling noise at the other side of the line. _"Wednesday, maybe? Or…" _It was silent for a moment. _"Friday! We can have a movie marathon!"_

Dean chuckled at her sudden enthusiasm.

"Friday sounds good to me. Your place or mine?"

"_What about your place and I can pick the movies?"_

"Deal."

"_Great! See ya Friday then!"_

"Yeah, laters."

He was about to hang up when he heard another sound coming from his phone.

"_Dean? Still there?"_

"Sure, why?"

It was silent for a moment.

"_I'm glad you called."_

Dean's eyes suddenly became a bit blurry.

"… Me too."

Another pause.

"_Uhm… Yeah. See ya, Dean."_

"Bye, Charles."

An hour later, Dean found himself driving the rental car he'd been using since the accident. The car itself was nice - a Dodge Challenger from the mid-seventies. The black, smooth exterior reminded him a bit of his own, good ol' Chevy Impala, but he couldn't help but desperately look forward to the time he'd finally fix his car and be able to ditch the Challenger. He had been working on her occasionally, but the last couple of weeks had been rather unproductive. Dean decided that he should pay Bobby, who had been storing the Impala for him, a visit again as soon as possible.

When Dean had reached his destination, he parked his car and got out. He was standing on the very same pavement where he had been laying quite ungracefully the night before. He stared at the door; he really didn't want to go inside that bar ever again. But if he ever wanted to be able to live with himself again, he should start with apologizing for his retarded behaviour. So he opened the door and walked in.

He noticed that as he entered, a few people went quiet. They probably recognized him from last night. He sighed and just continued walking until he reached the counter, where he met the back of the blonde who had been serving his drinks the night before.

He coughed, and said, "Hey."

She turned around, wearing the customary smile, which immediately froze into a slight frown as she recognized him.

"Hello," she replied warily.

Dean smiled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Thought you might recognize me," he said. The barmaid rose an eyebrow and crossed her arms defensively. Dean cleared his throat. "Anyway, I'm not here to cause more trouble. I came here to apologize for yesterday. Things have been rough lately, and I, ya know, just, snapped." He shrugged helplessly.

The girl in front of him just kept staring expectantly.

Again, Dean cleared his throat. He could use a drink. But, he reminded himself, he still had to drive home. "So, uh, how much do I owe you?" He took his wallet from his pocket.

The barmaid looked at him for a second, and then walked a bit closer, resting an elbow on the bar.

"Thirty-eight fifty," she answered, and then added with a small, but serious smile, "and your story."

Dean flicked his eyes back to the girl as he was digging in his wallet, looking for some money. "Yeah, I suppose I owe you my story." He smiled at her, feeling his nervousness begin to ease. "I need to know your name first, though. Oh, and keep the change." He handed her a bill of fifty dollars.

"Sure thing. The name's Jo," she said with a wink, as she put the money away securely. "Yours?"

And so, Dean told his story for the first time to someone who hadn't already heard about it. He told her about Lisa, the woman he had been together with for more than 5 happy years. He also told her about Sammy, who had decided to move to Oregon because of his girlfriend Jess. He told her about the proposal, and the idea to visit Sam and Jess to tell them the great news in person. And then, he told her about how they never reached their destination. About how a truck crashed into their car and killed everything he had dreamed of. He didn't tell her about how he still hated himself for surviving while his beautiful soon-to-be wife did not.

He just ended his story there. Jo stared at him, her eyes watery.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Dean inhaled to respond, but nothing but a croaky sound left his throat. He blinked a few times and tried to smile instead.  
>Jo took his hand and just held it for a while in complete silence. Then, she got called away by a few new thirsty customers.<p>

When she got back, Dean was already standing and pulling on his coat.  
>"Are you leaving?" she asked.<p>

"Yeah," Dean said, giving a quick smile. "I'm driving, and I don't think I can be surrounded by beers any longer without sinning."

Jo chuckled, and then seemed to be writing something down.

"Here," she said when she looked up again, handing him a piece of paper. "I understand if it's too early for you, but… Just give me a call, if you ever want to talk again. Whenever you're ready." She smiled somewhat shyly.

Dean took a quick look at the hurriedly scrawled telephone number, and then flashed another grin to Jo.

"You'll hear from me soon," he said with a wink.

After that, they said their goodbyes and Dean left the bar, feeling better than expected. Somehow, talking about everything _did _help. And getting a pretty girl's phone number did too.

As he got outside, he noticed it had already gotten a bit dark. He quickly checked his watch; it was 5:30. He put his hands deep in his pockets. He really hated the cold weather that November had brought this year.

Dean was about to walk over to his car, when he spotted someone at the other side of the street who was looking at him intently. He frowned; creepy. He turned around when a feeling of familiarity hit him. He turned back, to find the stranger was still staring at him. He was wearing a tan trench coat, which definitely didn't seem fit for this temperature. Hesitantly, he crossed to road to get a better look at the man. As he neared, the stranger got a slightly bewildered expression and he looked like he wanted to walk away.

"Wait," Dean half-shouted to keep the man's attention. He saw the man come to a stop and reluctantly turn back to face him. "Do I know you?"

"I…" The man's gravelly voice died away, and he just kept staring at Dean, almost desperately. Dean had stopped a meter in front of him; he met his gaze and suddenly it hit him.

His eyes.

They were so incredibly fucking blue.

"You… You're the dude from the bridge, right?" Dean asked slowly.

"Yes," the man answered earnestly. "I indeed am the… dude from the bridge."

Dean stared at him for a second and then burst out in laughter at how awkward the other man had managed to make his previous sentence sound. He tried to stop when the other kept staring at him, uncomprehendingly.

"I'm… I'm sorry," Dean said, still trying to stop giggling. "It's just- I don't know you, but let me give you some advice; never _ever_ say something like 'dude' again. It doesn't suit you, man."

The other man nodded slowly.  
>"In that case, I shall remember to never use that word again," he replied.<p>

Dean's laughing fit soon died after the stranger's serious words. He coughed, trying to get his face straight again.

"Uh, yeah. Good idea. Anyway… Thank you. For what you did at the bridge, I mean."

"It was my honour." The man avoided Dean's gaze, staring at the pavement.

"But really, thank you," Dean continued, trying to get another look at the other man's eyes. "I owe you big time. If there's anything I can do for you…"

Dean didn't even need to finish his sentence. The other man's stomach suddenly growled aggressively, causing the stranger to clasp his stomach, looking horrified.

"I apologize," he managed. "It has been making this sound for over an hour-"

It took all Dean's strength not to grin at the man's frightened face. He had no idea why this man was overreacting like this; he must be some kind of overly polite nerd or something. But it was cute. Ish. No homo.

"You know what? I know this place that serves real great burgers. Let's go there and I'll buy you dinner, okay?"  
>The other man looked down at his stomach once more, and then nodded.<p>

"I suppose that might be a good idea."

* * *

><p><em>I'd like to thank the few people who fav'd and followed my story, with a special shout-out this time to mailaine, who also left a review. I'm glad you like it! I'll try to update this fic every Tuesday and Friday.<br>The next chapter will have the song Time Has Come Today by Ramones as prologue._


	4. Time Has Come Today

.

IV.

_The rules have changed today  
>I have no place to stay<br>I'm thinking about the subway_

_Oh my Lord, I have to roam_  
><em>I have no home<em>

"So, what's your name?"

Castiel was sitting in Dean's temporary car. He was feeling dizzy and a bit sweaty and his heart was pounding fiercely in his chest. He was nervous. He hadn't expected that his reaction to seeing Dean, or rather, to Dean seeing him, would be like this. But as soon as his human had first laid eyes on him, he had panicked, suddenly feeling incredibly insecure.

"My name is Castiel," he answered Dean's question. He stole a glance at Dean's face. He was looking at the road, his expression relaxed. Somehow, he looked better than the days and weeks before Castiel's fall.

Dean's eyebrows rose as he kept his eyes fixed on the road in front of him.

"Right. Any last names?"

Castiel froze. He did not have a last name; no angel did. But having last names was a custom on Earth, so he should think of one in order to fit in. To any other person, he would have said his last name was 'Winchester', as it was the first surname that popped up in his mind. But this was Dean; he surely couldn't use _his_ surname. So he desperately tried to think of any other surname he had ever heard.

"Novak," he then blurted. It was the name of a boy with whom Dean had attended pre-school, Jimmy Novak. They had played together once or twice, but never developed a memorable friendship.

Dean smirked slightly.

"Castiel Novak, huh? Almost sounds like you're some kind of biblical Russian or something."

Castiel stared at Dean, slightly confused. He was sure Dean had just made a joke, but he didn't quite understand it. Dean took his eyes from the road for a second to look back at Castiel, his smirk disappearing.

"Oh, uh, I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that Castiel sounds like it's been picked from a random page of the Old Testament, and Novak has this Russian vibe to it, ya know?" His eyes flicked back to Castiel for another second. "Oh, crap. That probably didn't sound any better."

This time, Castiel did smile a bit as he understood what Dean had been trying to say.

"It's all right, I'm not offended. As for my first name, I do agree with you. Although Castiel hasn't been included in either the Old or the New Testament, the name stems from that era. Novak is not Russian, however. Even though the name is of Slavonic origin, it mainly derives from Eastern European countries such as Poland."

Dean hummed.

"Cool. So you're a biblical Pole, then." Before Castiel could react, Dean turned back to him and flashed him a grin. "Just kidding, man. You sure know a lot though. Are you a historian?"

Castiel turned his head away to look out the window. He hoped that by avoiding Dean's glance, he could also avoid questions he couldn't answer.

"No. I'm not."

Luckily for Castiel, Dean had reached the diner he had been talking about and was too busy parking the car to dwell on it.

When they entered the restaurant, Castiel was overwhelmed by delicious smells that made his stomach growl even louder. He finally understood that the empty, slightly hurting sensation in his belly must mean that his vessel was hungry. Castiel saw Dean turn his head back to him and grin at the sound.

They sat down at a table in a corner. Castiel took Dean's example and grabbed a menu, opening it on the first page. He was slightly distracted when he saw a few images of fluffy animals and rainbows.  
>"Uh, you might want to take a look at the next page," Dean suddenly told him with a slight smirk. "I'm not saying you can't eat off the kid's menu, but, well, you did sound kinda hungry not too long ago."<p>

"Oh." Castiel felt his face become slightly hot in embarrassment and quickly turned the page. "I did not notice."

Dean chuckled. "Don't worry. Shit happens when a man's in need of food."

Castiel decided not to respond except for a small nod, and examined the dishes that were listed in the menu. He couldn't help but wonder why there were so many. He was about to ask Dean for help because he didn't recognize half of the words he saw, when one dish in particular caught his attention. He neatly closed the menu and shoved it to the edge of the table. Dean did the same.

"So, whatcha gonna eat?" Dean asked.

"I'd like to try a cheeseburger," Castiel answered with a small smile. He knew Dean loved cheeseburgers, and he had always wondered what they tasted like. Today was the perfect day to find out.

"Huh, good choice! Same here, by the way. This place makes the best cheeseburgers around." Dean turned to the hallway and waved to a waitress.

"What can I get for you?" she asked nicely when she arrived at the table, holding a note block and a pen.

"Two cheeseburgers, one coke, and… Cas, what do you want to drink?"

Castiel looked at the waitress, wondering if Dean knew her. He knew for sure that _he_ hadn't seen her before. But then, why did Dean know her name, and why was he asking her if she'd like to have a drink?

"Cas?"

Castiel looked at Dean, who was looking at him questioningly, and then back at the waitress, who was _also_ looking at him questioningly. Suddenly, the realization that _he_ must be Cas dawned on him.

Cas. Castiel. He understood.

"I… eh," he stammered, looking at Dean as if he was somehow expecting the answer to be written on his forehead.

"Hey, don't feel guilty because I'm paying or something," Dean said gently. "Pick whatever you want. The beer here is good, by the way."

"All right," Castiel said hesitantly, turning back to the waitress. "In that case, I'd like to have a beer, please."

"Sure," the waitress said, looking a bit strangely at Castiel. "I'll be right back with your drinks."

The girl walked away; a short silence followed.

Castiel realized that if he wanted to prevent any personal questions to be directed at him, he should start a conversation. But he didn't know how. The only conversations he had had in his life as an angel were short, and strictly business. Humans, on the other hand, liked to talk about small things. Castiel couldn't think of anything small to talk about, however. But he did want to know one thing.

"How are you feeling, Dean?" he asked, intently looking at him.

Dean smiled, opened his mouth to answer but then closed it again, frowning slightly. Then his face brightened again and he chuckled.

"Did I say something wrong?" Castiel asked, not understanding why he had just witnessed such a wide range of emotions provoked by one simple question.

"Nah. It's just weird, because you said my name and I couldn't even remember introducing myself. But then I realized I probably told you yesterday." He smiled awkwardly and shrugged.

Castiel couldn't believe he had been so foolish as to almost forget that Dean did not know _him_. He looked at the table, again avoiding Dean's eyes. "Yes, you did," he lied.

They were both silent for a moment. Then, Dean chuckled mischievously, and said with a wink, "Too bad, I'd have liked to have been the mysterious stranger for some longer."

Castiel just stared at him, his head slightly tilted in mild confusion. He recognized Dean's behaviour. This was the kind of comportment he'd show whenever he wanted to impress someone he was interested in; usually women, occasionally men. Lately, no one. He swallowed, and returned his gaze to the table. He wished he could think of a way to return the gesture with a witty remark, but his mind remained painfully blank.

Dean cleared his throat, possibly feeling rather awkward at Castiel's response, or rather - lack thereof. Castiel glanced up again to see that his mouth was opened to start an apology, but at that moment the waitress returned with their drinks.

"Thanks," Dean said, giving her a quick smile.

Castiel merely nodded in acknowledgement when he received his beer. He took the bottle and aimlessly fiddled with it. Dean and his brother Sam seemed to enjoy beer quite a bit, but Castiel soon realized he didn't even like the smell of it. He took a cautious swig and tried his best not to pull a face. It was so bitter. Why would anyone want to drink this by means of enjoyment?

"Uh, anyway, you asked me how I was doing," Dean's voice sounded from the other side of the table. Castiel put down his drink and looked back at his human, waiting for him to continue. "And I'm doing fine. I know, it sounds weird coming from a man who, uh, ya know, but I really am. So no need to worry for you – you won't have to save me again anytime soon." Dean smiled reassuringly; Castiel recognized this smile to be one of his convincing, but definitely fake ones.

"Dean," Castiel said gently. "Stop lying. I understand that you feel the urge to lie to me, but at least try to stop lying to yourself. Yesterday was the horrible example of what happens if you do so for too long."

For a moment, Dean just looked broken. Then his faced changed slightly.  
>"You don't even know me," he said defensively.<p>

"I know enough," Castiel said, now studying the beer bottle. "I know about your mother and father, your fiancé and your brother.

"Oh," Dean said slightly sheepishly. "I guess I talk a bit too much when drunk."

"Don't say that," Castiel said with a soft smile. "It's good for a human to talk about what's on their mind."

"Oh, so you're a historian _and _a psychologist," Dean muttered, casually trying to redirect the conversation.

Castiel shook his head. "No, I'm not, but we weren't talking about me. You should talk. It doesn't have to be to me, since you barely know me. But please, Dean, try and talk to your brother."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, right. I ain't gonna bother Sammy."

Even though Castiel knew the answer to the question, he asked, "Why not?"

Dean took his time to take a swig from his coke, but eventually answered quietly, "He's so happy. I don't want to screw it up for him."

Castiel sighed softly. "He's your brother, Dean. I'm sure the only thing he wants is the same for what do you think would have happened if you had succeeded yesterday?"

"Forget it," Dean suddenly snapped. The harsh sound of his voice hurt Castiel, almost physically. He grabbed his beer somewhat tighter and soon took another swig. It still tasted awfully bitter.

"I apologize," Castiel then said quietly. "I did not mean to upset you. All I want to do is help."

"Then go help someone else," Dean replied gruffly.

That hurt Castiel even more. A wave of emotions flooded through him, making him feel even worse than how he'd felt the moment right after his fall.

"I… I think, I should go then," Castiel said, a bit startled at how broken his voice sounded. He got up from his chair but before he could utter anything else, he was interrupted by Dean's sharp voice.

"No! Cas, wait. I… I didn't mean it like that," Dean said, looking quite upset himself. Castiel slowly sat down again, trying to contain his emotions. "I… You're right. I'm not fine. I just suck at talking about it."

Castiel silently nodded.

"I'm trying, though," Dean continued, now being the one avoiding the other's eyes. "I went to the bar today, to say sorry, ya know, because I fucked up. Bad. And well, there was this girl who asked for my story, and 'cause, well, I owed her, I told her everything that happened. I know it sounds stupid and shit, but it's just… I usually never…" His voice faltered.

He hadn't been at Dean's side for one day, and this was the development he had missed. Castiel was positively surprised.

"That's really good, Dean," Castiel said gently. Dean seemed to perk up a bit at the compliment.

Their conversation was paused as their food arrived. Castiel looked slightly warily at his cheeseburger, wondering how it was even humanly possible to eat a thing this size without making a fool of yourself.

It _was_ humanly possible, though, he concluded as he saw Dean taking a huge bite and heard him groan. "They're so fucking good," Castiel heard him say with a muffled voice.

Castiel decided to find out for himself, so he took the burger and cautiously brought it towards his mouth. At least it smelled good. Then, he took a bite and his taste buds exploded. He couldn't hold back a soft moan as he tasted how extremely delicious it was.

"Told ya they were good!"

Castiel just hummed in reply and then fully focused on devouring the cheeseburger. Good was an understatement.

He finished his burger soon after Dean and sighed contentedly. His hunger had finally been stilled, but he still felt that his throat was slightly aching. That must be thirst, then. He took another swig from his beer, trying to get rid of it.

"So, you liked it?" Dean asked; he looked better again, his smile was genuine.

"Yes! The cheeseburger was amazing. Thank you." Castiel smiled back at Dean. Somehow, his head began feeling a tad light. It must be the aftermath of dinner, he thought, and put the bottle of beer to his mouth once more. He was starting to appreciate the beverage a bit more.

Dean chuckled. "No problem, man." His eyes then seemed to focus on a lower point of Castiel's face, and then, seemingly out of nowhere, pointed to a corner of his own mouth.

"You got some sauce there," Dean said. Castiel stared at him and wondered how he had managed to get sauce on Dean's face. He couldn't even see it, anyway.

Dean stayed like this for a moment, then let his hand drop.

"Wait, I've got it," he said, and took a napkin. Then, suddenly, he leaned over the table towards Castiel, and stretched out his arm. He was way too close. Castiel panicked slightly and leaned away, trying to avoid Dean's hand, which just wavered there for a moment longer and then quickly retreated.

"Sorry," Dean muttered, his face gradually becoming red. Castiel just drank some more from his beer; he kept drinking until he noticed that he had finished his bottle.

Dean was still looking quite uncomfortable. Castiel giggled.

"What?" Dean asked defensively.

"Your expression," Castiel explained with a broad smile. "It's quite hilarious."

"I'm glad _you_ think so," Dean grumbled.

Castiel hummed and tried to take another swig but then remembered that he had just finished his beer. Dean raised his eyebrows at the other's failed attempt.

"You know what I think?" Dean asked rhetorically. Castiel tilted his head, awaiting the answer. Dean smirked.

"That you're a fucking lightweight."

* * *

><p>After Dean had paid for their meal, Castiel followed him outside. It had gotten completely dark in the time they'd spent in the diner. Castiel shivered, and pulled his coat a bit closer around his body.<p>

"Are you by car?" Dean asked.

Castiel shook his head.

"I can give you a ride, if ya want."

"No," Castiel said a bit too quickly. "I'll walk."

"So, you live close then?"

Castiel was silent for a short moment.  
>"Yes." He felt his face gradually heating up and looked away, hating to lie towards anyone and especially to Dean.<p>

"And, uh, where exactly? I mean, if it isn't too far away, I can just drop you off. Like, no trouble at all."

"I… I forgot the name of my street. I just moved in." It was the best excuse Castiel could think of at the moment. "But I will be able to find it on my own, thank you."

"Oh. Okay." Dean hesitantly moved a bit more towards his car. "I can show you around sometime, though? 'Cause you're new in town?"

"That would be amazing," Castiel answered, a small smile growing on his face at the thought of being able to spend more time with his human now he knew he existed.

"Awesome! If you give me your number, I'll text you about a date, okay?"

Again, Castiel was quiet. Dean frowned slightly.

"Uh, okay, no date, that sounded wrong, sorry."

"It's not that," Castiel said quickly. "It's just that I don't have a telephone."

"Right…" Dean said, raising one eyebrow. "That leaves us one option, then. I'll have to drop you off so I can pick you up another time to show you around. Sounds like a plan to me!"

"I suppose so," Castiel said resignedly.

Dean chuckled. "C'mon, don't look like I just kicked your puppy. I'm just giving you a lift home! And you did a hell of a lot more for me, remember? You're practically my hero, saving my life and stuff."

Despite of Castiel's feelings of guilt, he felt his lips twitch upwards. Dean just wanted to reciprocate what Castiel had done for him; perhaps he should just let Dean have his way.

"All right," Castiel agreed eventually.

"Get in the car then," Dean said, and followed his own advice.

Castiel opened the door of the car, sat down next to Dean and fastened his seatbelt as Dean drove away.

"So, where do I go?" Dean asked.

"You may just follow the road for now."

"Sure thing."

A short while passed in comfortable silence before Castiel started to recognize the neighbourhood. He was a few blocks away from the place where Dean lived.

"You should go left next," Castiel instructed Dean, trying to steer him away a bit more from Dean's place. Dean just nodded and obeyed.

Castiel made Dean turn right and then left again; they passed a small park and after another turn to the right, Castiel decided they were far enough.

"This is it," Castiel said.

"Where?"  
>"At the next street light."<br>Dean pulled over.

"So, when can I drop by again?"

Castiel thought for a second. He didn't quite have anything else to do, really.

"Tomorrow at the same time we met today, perhaps?"

Dean seemed to frown slightly. "Hmm, not sure if I can make that. Maybe the day after tomorrow, same time?"

"That would be great."

"'Kay, awesome! See ya then, Cas."

"Goodbye, Dean."

Castiel got out of the car and slowly walked towards the house that he was pretending was his own. He turned around and saw Dean drive away, flashing his lights a few times. Castiel smiled.

At the same moment, the light on the front porch of the house went on and an angry looking old man stepped outside.

"Whatcha doin' on my property!" he shouted rather than asked.

"I beg your pardon," Castiel stammered and stumbled backwards.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck yer pardon, just get off my goddamn property," he heard the old man grumble before he slammed the door shut.

Castiel swallowed and quickly walked away.

He aimlessly followed the road until he remembered the park he had seen earlier. He had already decided that he liked the green, quiet environment that parks offered, so he made his way back to the entrance. Once he entered the park, he followed the path until he found a wooden bench, surrounded by a few trees that had already shed their leaves. He sat down with a sigh, only now realizing how worn out his body was by today's impressions and activities. Even though his hands, his nose and his ears hurt and his entire body was shaking from the cold, his eyes soon closed and Castiel fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

><p><em>Hey guys! Thank you so much for following me and fav'ing this story! It's a great motivation to see that there are people out there who actually enjoy my writing. As for the reviewers: mailaine, you're too kind! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. Yay for (even more) awkward Cas! And mulanlovesdestiel, wow, I love your username! The person who made that up must be an intellectual genius mastermind. Talk to me when you finish reading this chapter.<br>__Also – this is for anyone who actually reads my A/N's – …tell me if you have any ideas for this story! Even though I have loooots of ideas myself and I have already written a few more chapters, I'd love to include some of your ideas. Let's make this a nice, ridiculously long story. And ideas for lyrics are also very, very much appreciated.  
><em>_The next chapter will have the song 'Back in Black' by AC/DC as prologue._


	5. Back in Black

.

V.

_Back in black  
>I hit the sack<br>It's been too long  
><em>_I'm glad to be back_

"Look what the cat dragged in."

Dean stood on Bobby's doorstep, feeling the other man's cynical glance burn into him.

"If it was anyone else, I'd have fired ya weeks ago, boy," Bobby continued gruffly and turned around, entering his house. Dean took this as his cue to follow him and closed the door behind him.

"Nice to see you too, Bobby," Dean said with a chuckle.

Bobby walked over to the fridge, grabbed two beers and both Dean and Bobby sat down at the kitchen table.

"So, what made you decide to delight me with your joyful presence once again?" the older man asked, glaring at Dean from under the shabby baseball cap he always seemed to be wearing.

"It was about time I saw my Baby again," Dean shrugged, and looked at the two beers Bobby was holding. "Are you going to give me that beer or what?"

"Already figured it was all about that damn car," Bobby grumbled, still holding on to both of the drinks. "When was the last time you showed up just to visit ol' me? Oh wait, I remember – never."

"Ah, c'mon Bobby," Dean laughed and amicably clapped Bobby on his shoulder. "You know I couldn't ever live without your cheerful personality."

Bobby just huffed, but decided to give Dean his beer. Dean gladly took it and lifted it, looking at the other man.  
>"Cheers."<p>

"Whatever."

They drank in silence for a few moments before Dean broke it.

"So, how's the business?"

"Same as always." Bobby took another sip. "Going a bit slow 'cause we're missing a man, though. Still gotta fix three cars before the end of the damn week."

"Oh… Yeah. That sucks." Dean enjoyed another swig of beer before he put the bottle down. "Y'know, I actually came here to tell that I wanted to come back."

Bobby just raised one eyebrow.

"Haven't heard that one before."

Dean sighed, slightly frustrated.

"I know – I'm sorry, Bobby, okay? But I'm serious now. I really want to start working again."

Bobby hummed, still looking completely unconvinced. He took his time to take another few swigs before redirecting his glance at Dean. Then, he shrugged and pushed back his chair.

"Whatcha waiting for, then? We've got three friggin' cars to finish."

Dean raised his eyebrows, slightly surprised at how easy Bobby was convinced. He followed him outside, where he asked, "So, what can I do?"

Bobby looked around and shrugged. "You can take a look at the car in garage C. It needs its tires to be switched for winter, and the owner was complaining about some weird noise the car made when its speed passed 50 miles an hour."

"Got it," Dean said. He waited a little longer, in case Bobby wanted to add anything. But the other man just stared at him, his face getting gradually more annoyed with every passing second.

"Off you go then!" he said, waving his hands as to shoo him off, and as to set an example, he himself made his way to garage A.

Dean chuckled and shook his head slightly, but eventually walked towards his assigned garage. As he passed garage B, he heard something clatter to the ground and a muffled yelp. He paused and looked inside, slightly wary. It looked empty, beside of the car proudly standing in the middle of a chaotic mess composed of loose screws, oil, left over components and whatnot.

"You okay?" he shouted and took a few steps inside, vaguely aware of who would be working here.

There was another clattering sound, and suddenly, a head popped up from behind the car. A second later, Dean was smashed against the wall and two skinny arms were wrapped around him in a bear hug, accompanied with an enthusiastic "Dean!".

"Whoa, Garth, take it easy," Dean chuckled.

"We missed you, man," declared Garth, his voice muffled due to his head being pressed into Dean's shoulder. "The business hasn't been the same without you."

"Yeah, I know, sorry," said Dean, awkwardly patting the other man's shoulder. "But I'm back now."

"Yeah!" Garth pulled back and beamed at Dean. "So you're staying this time? Like, for real?"

Dean nodded. "Yep, that was my intention."

"Awesome!" Garth pulled Dean in another quick hug.

Dean chuckled and gently pushed him away. "Enough of the friggin' hugging already. It's not like we're in a chick flick or something."

Garth smiled his dopey smile and from then on kept a bit more distance from Dean. His face turned a tad more serious when he asked, "So how're you doing now, Dean?"

Dean shrugged. "Better. Thought it was about time to put my life back on track again."

Garth nodded and looked at Dean with an open expression, waiting for him to continue. However, Dean didn't feel like elaborating about himself too much, so he asked, "And how're you?"

Garth exploded into a new, beaming smile. "I'm great! I'm not sure if you already knew, but Bess and me got engaged."

Dean blinked. Nope, he hadn't heard about that yet. "Whoa, that's great. Congratulations, man. When did you pop the question?"

This question seemed to make Garth slightly uncomfortable. He averted his glance to the ground. "Eh… about a month ago, I think," he said. "I really meant to tell you earlier, Dean, but… every time I tried to call you, you didn't pick up, so I kinda gave up after a week."

Dean grimaced. "Yeah… sorry 'bout that. Uh, but I'm really happy for you guys." Garth seemed to perk up again, his dopey smile returning to his face. "When's the big day?"

"We're not sure about the date yet, but Bessy thought it'd be nice to have the wedding in summer."

"Sounds great."

Garth nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! And I also had another idea, like, it'd be fun if it was a themed wedding, right? I was thinking about superheroes, like, Bessy could be Wonder Woman and I'd be Iron Man or something, and the groomsmen can also wear something cool. Oh… Dean, you'd make an awesome Batman!"

"You… you want me to be one of your groomsmen?" Dean asked, slightly surprised.

Garth frowned a bit. "Yes, of course. You're one of my best friends."

Dean blinked rapidly, coughed, and then smiled.

"Uh… right. You do realize that you're mixing up Marvel and DC, by the way?"

Garth seemed to think about this for a second, and then just smiled.

"Not really, but everyone and everything is welcome at our wedding!"

Dean smiled and was about to reply, when another voice sounded through the garage.  
>"You both ain't getting paid for gossiping, ladies. Cut the crap and get your lame asses back to work." Dean turned around to face Bobby, who was wearing his customary, annoyed-with-everything face.<p>

"Hold your horses, Bobby. I'm getting started in a minute," Dean said with a chuckle. Bobby just rolled his eyes, grumbled something and walked away.

Garth giggled. "I think we should get back to work then."

"Yep, sounds like a good idea," Dean hummed before Garth pulled him in another quick hug.

"I'm so glad that you're here again," Garth said, smiling broadly.

Dean couldn't help but reciprocate his smile.

"Yeah, me too."

It didn't take too long for Dean to change the tires of his assigned car. He had done this numerous times before, after all, as he had worked in Bobby's garage for over 15 years. After his father's death, Dean and his younger brother Sam had moved to live with Bobby. He'd had such a strong friendship with their father that Bobby, although not related by blood, had grown out to be an uncle to the boys. He had taken care of them like they were his own, and in return, both Dean and Sam occasionally helped in the garage. Dean had shown more affinity to the work than Sam, and soon the boy spent more time helping Bobby than on school. Sam's interest gradually decreased, though, and where Dean officially became an employee of the business after finishing high school, Sam gladly took the chance apply for law school and move out.

Figuring out where the strange noises the car's owner had mentioned came from, turned out to be a more time consuming task. Soon, Dean's thoughts crept back to the night before. There were so many things he would like to have asked the stranger who had saved his life. Castiel. It was a strange name, Dean thought, but it suited him. A strange name for a strange man. It wasn't that he was weirded out by him or something. No, no at all. He was merely intrigued by the man, who came across as one of the most earnest people he had ever met, but who also seemed to hide something. He couldn't quite put a finger on it, but he was sure that there was something about him. He had noticed how distant Castiel had become when asked about himself. It wouldn't have been strange, since they hadn't officially met before – not counting the night before, of course – if it weren't for the fact that the other man had seemed so inclined to talk with Dean – _about _Dean. How was it possible that he wanted to talk about Dean's deepest feelings, when he himself didn't even want to elaborate about his own profession?

After a lot of cleaning, fixing, failing and trying again, Dean seemed to have found the source of the strange noise. Contently, he wiped his brow, leaving a swipe of black goo on his forehead; he decided to test the car tomorrow – he had done enough for today. He left the garage and looked around to find out that the place was deserted. He thought about going home for a moment, but then remembered his secondary reason of visiting Bobby, namely seeing his car. Dean looked around once more; Bobby and Garth were probably having a break or something. Then, he walked towards garage D, where he knew his Impala was waiting for him.

The car looked exactly the same as he had left it – battered, dented, only now with an extra layer of dust. It looked like a total piece of crap. Dean took a shivery breath and slowly walked forward to take a look at the most crushed side. He let his fingers lightly slide over the dented, cool surface as he tried to cope with the memories the sight of his beloved car brought back. He swallowed thickly, and pulled his hand back. He just stared for another moment; then, his eyes flicked towards one of the walls, where he had stacked the new components he had ordered to fix his car. He sighed resolutely; if he put his heart into it, he could have the Impala fixed in two weeks. Dean quickly checked his watch. He had still a few hours left before his shift was over, so he might as well make a start now.

And so he did.

It seemed only minutes later that he heard Bobby's voice coming from outside somewhere.

"You here, Dean?"

Dean paused his current activity and looked up.

"Yeah. The other car is all fixed, gonna take it for a test ride tomorrow."

"Good work, son. I'm gonna lock the place up for tonight though, so you gotta continue whatever you were doing tomorrow."

Dean frowned slightly. "Wait, what time is it?"

"Somewhere past five. You staying for dinner?"

Dean raised his eyebrows. Time sure went fast when you got something useful to do. He considered Bobby's offer for a moment before another idea popped up in his mind.

"Thanks Bobby, but not today. Got somewhere to be."

"'Kay. You got the key to D, right?"

Dean patted his pockets and nodded. "Yep, still got it."

"Ok. Then finish whatever it is you were doing and lock the garage when you leave. The rest is already locked up."

"Sure. See ya tomorrow then."

"'Till tomorrow."

Bobby left, and Dean was alone again. He steadily screwed another screw into his car before he stood up and cracked his back, moaning at feeling of finally stretching his back after hours of sitting in a quite uncomfortable position. He turned off the lights, walked outside and locked the door and then walked towards the Challenger. Both Bobby and Garth were nowhere to be seen so he just drove off.

Dean didn't drive straight home. He figured that since Cas had initially suggested to meet up around this time today, he could always try to visit him now, now that Dean was going home earlier than expected. He turned up the volume of the radio when he noticed that a song from AC/DC was playing. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and heartily sang along; today had been a particularly good day.

He was pondering about where to get a Batman costume as he drove into the road where he had dropped off Castiel yesterday. He pulled over at the house he recognized by the nice white fence and got out, still whistling the melody of AC/DC's song that was now stuck in his head. Dean vaguely wondered if Castiel would care if he showed up in his stained working outfit, but shrugged the thought off as he rang the doorbell. Cas had seen him worse.

He smiled a wolfish smile when the door opened, which quickly disappeared when Dean saw it wasn't Castiel who had opened the door, but an elderly woman who was eying him warily.

"Uh… Is Cas here?" Dean tried.

"There isn't a Cas here," the woman replied shortly.

Dean frowned. "You sure? Castiel, brown hair, blue eyes… yea high?" He vaguely waved his hand at the height of his own eyes. The woman in front of him just shook her head, hiding a bit more behind the door. "Uh, he said he moved in here recently," Dean added hopefully.

At that moment, a male voice came from farther inside the house. "Who's there?"

The woman turned around. "A man who's looking for someone. I'll be right back." She turned back to Dean. "I'm sorry, but you must be at the wrong house. We have been living here for over 15 years."

"Oh." Dean blinked. Maybe, he thought, Castiel had forgotten his house number or something, and wandered up the wrong front porch. "Sorry. I'll be going, then."

Then, he heard a shuffling sound in the hallway and the door was opened a bit more, revealing the husband of the woman.

"You looking for someone?" he asked with squinted eyes.

"Uh, yeah," Dean said; he had no idea where this was going.

"Was said person wearing a trench coat last night?"

Dean felt a sting of excitement and nodded. "Yeah, that's probably him!"

The man huffed and then said, his voice suddenly anything but calm, "Then tell him next time you see him that he's gotta stay away from my goddamn property! If I find him one more time wandering around here, I'll put a bullet through his brain." A gun seemed to appear out of nowhere; Dean gulped as man swung it threateningly. "Same counts for you."

"Whoa, easy there," Dean muttered uncomfortably and backed away, raising his hands into the air. "I'm already leaving."

The woman ushered the man back inside, and a moment later, the door was closed. Dean rolled his eyes and went back to the Challenger. At that moment, his phone buzzed.

From: Charlie 5:56 PM

hey dean! we're gonna watch hp. THEMED CLOTHING= MANDATORY! i'll bring butterbeer ;)

Dean sat down in the car; after looking at the house warily, he typed a reply.

To: Charlie 5:58 PM

sounds good! i'll buy food, u want anything special? cya friday

He didn't wait for a reply and just put his phone back in his pocket before driving away from the creepy old folks.

* * *

><p><em>Hey hey! Again, thanks everyone for following and fav'ing. Chillywinterbreeze, your kind words are greatly appreciated! I think I'll change the spacing of chapter 1 as well, because it'll look be a bit messy otherwise.<br>I'm sorry if anyone was expecting for Dean and Cas to be together by now, but like the description said, it's 'eventual' destiel, so, yeah. I'm just saying it miiiiiight take a while. Just like any real relationship. Anyway, I hope you guys liked Bobby and Garth (they were so much fun to write, gosh)!  
>Also: brace yourselves, Christmas is coming! This sounds like great fun and all, and it actually is great fun, but this also means that I'll have to spend more time with my family and less time with my computer. So, I might update a bit less frequent. Sorry!<br>The next chapter will have the song 'One Day' by Trading Yesterday as prologue._


	6. One Day

.

VI.

_If I could change the currents of our lives  
>To make the river flow where it's run dry<br>To be a prodigal of father time  
>Then I would see you tonight<em>

Castiel stared at the products in front of him. He was standing in a small convenience store he had found earlier today after having woken up early, his whole body aching from stiffness and the cold. The store seemed to be a perfect solution for the cold. He had spent multiple hours just walking through the hallways, every now and then straightening a package that had fallen down or carrying a product to its rightful place after someone had randomly dropped it in the wrong shelf. He found it calming, to restore the order of the shop. After a few hours he had noticed that the employees started staring at him strangely, but they hadn't sent him away. So Castiel continued what he was doing, enjoying the warmth and the tranquillity.

"I'm sorry sir, but we're gonna close the shop, 'cause it's already 6 pm," a voice suddenly sounded from behind Castiel. He turned around to see a teenage boy who was wearing the same kind of clothing he had seen on every employee. Their uniform mostly consisted out of red colours, and in addition to the similar clothing, the boy was also wearing a cap. Castiel remembered seeing him earlier, sitting at the cash register.

"That's all right, I understand," Castiel said and smiled politely. "I wish you a good evening."

"Thanks, you too," the boy answered nicely and walked back towards the cash register, where he started cleaning.

Castiel slowly walked towards the entrance and looked outside. The sky was pit black and Castiel shivered at the thought of having to spend another night in the cold. He looked through the store once more and his eyes landed on a tray of fruit. He hadn't eaten since yesterday evening and his stomach had been reminding him constantly of that fact. He hesitantly walked a bit closer, his hands hovering above the yellow fruits. His eyes flit back to the store; the boy was still attentively cleaning the register and the rest of the employees were nowhere to be seen.

"I apologize, Father, but I don't have another choice," Castiel whispered, and took a banana, quickly hiding it in the inner pocket of his coat. He was surprised that nobody heard his heart beating. With his face red from shame, he quickly turned around and left the shop.

As he walked, Castiel hugged himself himself in a futile attempt to keep himself warm as long as possible. His teeth started chattering soon, though, as the cold had no trouble biting through his thin coat.

He had no idea where he should go.

The thought to visit Dean had occurred to Castiel more than once, until he remembered that he wasn't supposed to know where Dean lived. If only he knew what other people without a home did. But he didn't have any experience at all on that matter, so he just walked, trying to keep his muscles as warm as possible.

After walking for a long time, Castiel neared an alley that seemed to be emanating a dancing yellow light. He stopped and stared, discovering a metal bin filled with burning material next to a person who was cuddled up into a pile of old looking blankets. Castiel found himself drawn to the light and hesitantly took a step forward.

"What are you looking at?" a sharp voice suddenly snapped. Castiel's eyes flashed back to the pile of blankets to take a better look at the source of the voice. It appeared to be a girl, probably in her early twenties. "Never seen a hobo before?"

Castiel had no idea what she meant with her second question, so he decided to ignore that part.

"I was looking at your fire," he answered, shuffling a bit closer once more as he felt the heat reaching out for his body. "May I perhaps join you?"

The girl snuggled a bit more into her blankets and looked at him defiantly.

"What's in it for me?"

"I…" Castiel thought for a moment and then remembered the banana in his inner pocket. Perhaps he could wash away his sin of stealing if he shared the fruit with the girl. "I have a banana."

She stared at him in disgust. "What the hell? If this is some fucked up way of talking me into something, I swear-"

Although he had no idea why what he said was wrong, Castiel was quick to interrupt her.

"I apologize," he said hastily, and took out the fruit to show it to the girl. "I think you misunderstood me. I meant to offer you a part of this."

The girl stared at the fruit for a second and then burst into laughter. Castiel stared helplessly at her, still holding up the banana. He still had no idea how he should handle humans when they were displaying these kinds of emotions.

"So… may I?" Castiel tried again.

Still giggling, the girl rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, do whatever you want, as long as I get a piece of that banana of yours."

Castiel nodded gratefully and walked towards the fire. He sighed in relief when he felt the warmth fill his body once more, his hands slowly thawing. It hurt at first but the warm feeling that was beginning to make its way through his body was entirely worth it. As soon as he was able to move his hands again without hurting, he lifted the banana and tried to figure out a way to divide it in two pieces. He carefully tried to break it, but the contrast between the firm outside and the mushy inside made it quite impossible. All this time, the girl was just staring at him with her eyebrows raised.

"Give that to me," she ordered after a while, and reached out her hand. Castiel frowned slightly at the banana, sighed, and handed it to her. She simply peeled it, took a bite and then moaned.

"Oh, this is good," she sighed, and took another bite.

Castiel just stared at her, watching his banana slowly disappear into the girl's stomach. After her third bite, the girl looked back up at Castiel.

"Oh, crap, I almost forgot it wasn't mine. Here." She handed him the remainder of the banana. It was less than Castiel had hoped, but it was something.

"Thank you," he said quietly, and finished the banana. It had a peculiar, exotic taste; he liked it, but it was nothing compared to the cheeseburger he had had yesterday.

This left him with a peel in his hands. He stared at it for a moment, and then turned his eyes questioningly at the girl. During his visits to Earth, he had noticed that humans seemed to dislike garbage, especially food waste, being left in their environment. Even though Castiel had already noticed that the streets weren't as clean as most of the human's houses, he was not entirely sure what he should do with the banana peel without somehow offending the girl.

"Where should I put this?" he ended up asking hesitantly.

She merely shrugged.

"I don't know, in the fire maybe? It'll keep it burning for a while longer, I guess."

Castiel nodded and followed her instructions.

It was silent for a while. Castiel was enjoying the heat radiating from the fire, his eyes closed, when suddenly a very uncomfortable feeling crept up his throat. It had been hurting all day, but now it began to itch. He cleared his throat, then coughed. It didn't help much.

"So… You got kicked out, or something?" the girl's voice broke the silence.

"I suppose it can be seen that way, yes," Castiel said, his eyes opening again and focusing on the sparks that kept finding ways to escape from the fire and fly freely through the air, only to perish seconds later.

The girl frowned. "So you fucked up."

Castiel sighed softly. "So it seems."

The human seemed to wait for him to continue; when he didn't, she sighed exasperatedly.

"And here I was thinking I had found a decent conversational partner to cure me from my boredom. Come on, tell me more before I kill myself!"

"I can't," Castiel answered earnestly. "It's… very complicated, I'm afraid."

"Come on, handsome, I'm not that stupid," she drawled. "I'm sure I can understand the complicatedness of your life."

Castiel shook his head. "I'm sorry."

The girl threw her head back, groaning. "All right, all right. Then what _can _you tell me about yourself without revealing some kinds of goddamn state secrets?"

Castiel was taken a bit back by her foul mouth addressing his Father in this manner.

"I… My name is Castiel," he said, and then quickly added, "Novak. Castiel Novak."  
>"Oh, wow, it's talking. How wonderful to meet you, Castiel Novak." The human smirked lightly. "My name is Meg, by the way."<p>

"Nice to meet you too, Meg," Castiel replied politely. Meg just rolled her eyes and gestured for him to continue.

Castiel hesitated for a moment. "I'm not completely sure what else to tell you."

"You're hopeless, you know that, right," Meg said with raised eyebrows.

Castiel didn't answer. He stared at the fire, and then decided to sit down in order to be a bit closer to the source of the warmth. He heard Meg sighing again; he realized that she probably just was craving for a bit attention. He turned his head towards her, tilting it slightly.

"Would you like to share your story?"

She blinked, her sarcastic façade disappearing for just a moment; Castiel suddenly saw how young she still must be. Why, indeed, was she on the streets all by herself?

"Maybe. If you quit staring at me; it's getting creepy." Meg seemed to have found her composure back again.

"I'm sorry." Castiel redirected his gaze at the fire, and they both were quiet for a while. Minutes later, Meg's voice broke the silence.

"You're gonna get a bladder infection if you keep on sitting on the ground like that."

Castiel considered this for a moment. "Oh."

He shifted for a bit and folded his knees under his body, so that his bottom wasn't touching the cold ground any longer. It was slightly uncomfortable, but he imagined a bladder infection would be even more so. He sniffed, and then coughed again.

At that moment, Meg sighed loudly and dramatically lifted the blanket she was under for a bit. Castiel looked at her again, not sure what to think of this action.

"C'mon, before I change my mind," she said and then glared at Castiel. "No touching, though."

"Do you want me to join you?" Castiel asked slowly.

"Yes!" Meg said exasperatedly. "Gosh, you're a bit slow, aren't you. Get your sweet ass over here before it freezes off."

Somehow, Meg reminded Castiel a bit of Dean. His lips tugged up into a small smile as he stood up; it hurt his knees a little. He walked over and carefully took hold of the rug that Meg had been holding up for him, and then shifted under it. He sat down and covered them again, making sure there still was a considerable distance between himself and the girl.

"Thank you," he sighed as he made himself a bit more comfortable. This was definitely an improvement from the cold ground.

Meg just hummed, and then asked, "What were you smiling about just now? Didn't even know you were capable of any other expression than that staring thingy."

Castiel's smile returned to his face; he studied the blanket as he answered, "I was thinking of someone. You reminded me a bit of him."

"Him, huh? I'm that manly?"

Castiel shook his head. "No. It's not that."

"Then what is it?"  
>"I…" Castiel shrugged. "Perhaps the way you speak. I'm not quite sure."<p>

"So… he's a good friend of yours, then? If he can make you smile, just thinking 'bout him?"

"Yes," Castiel heard himself say. "We… We share a profound bond."

"Oh," Meg said, and then, a bit louder, "Oh! So, you're like, 'special friends'?"

Castiel looked away from to blanket to study her face. He had no idea why she was smirking the way she was.

"Yes," he said slowly. "I believe our relationship is quite special."

"Ah, right." The smirk didn't leave her face. Somehow, Meg seemed to be much less tense than before. Castiel suddenly had to gasp for air and then broke into another coughing fit. Meg frowned slightly and waited until he pulled himself back together again. "But why are you here, freezing to death, when you could be with him?"

Castiel sighed. "As I said… It's truly complicated. I'm meeting him tomorrow, however."

"And then you can stay with him or what?"  
>Castiel didn't answer, and thoughtfully stared at the flames. They were starting to get lower.<p>

"Does he know you're living on the streets?" Meg's voice was a bit softer.

"No," was Castiel's simple answer.

It was silent for a moment.

"Well, he will know tomorrow," Meg then said resolutely. "You look like absolute shit."

Castiel looked down; the part of his coat that was visible, was slightly stained. He hadn't seen his face since his first day on Earth, but a quick brush to his cheek told him that his stubble probably look quite unkempt, and it wouldn't surprise him if the same counted for his hair. So he agreed with a small nod.

Suddenly, Castiel felt very tired. His throat was still aching, and his head felt fuzzy. He realized that he just wanted to sleep. He closed his eyes and leaned back a bit more. He listened to the sounds of the flames devouring the last pieces of the material Meg had gathered. His breathing slowed down gradually, and slowly, he started slipping out of consciousness. But then, the silence was broken by Meg's voice once again.

"They kicked me out, you know."

Castiel's eyes fluttered open.

"Who did?"

"My parents." Her voice sounded so bitter. Castiel turned to look at Meg; she was now the one staring at the flames. "Saw me kissing a girl. They called me an abomination, told me uncountable times how much God disapproved of 'that kind of thing', and then said I had to leave if I didn't improve my life. So I left."

Castiel saw how much it hurt the girl and it made him feel bad. He wanted to help, but he just didn't know how. He didn't even know what to say, even though Meg really looked like she needed to be comforted. Then, he remembered the conversation he had had on his first day on Earth, with the kind lady named Martha.

"Don't you have anywhere else to go?" he repeated Martha's words, tilting his head.

Meg just shrugged.

"I got some uncles and aunts, but I don't want to visit them. I don't want my parents to find me. I want them to know that they lost me for good."

Castiel nodded; he understood her reasoning. It was very primitively human, yet it was understandable. What he didn't understand, is why humans took a liking to hating phenomena in the name of God.

"It is a horrible thing your parents have done," Castiel said eventually. "But I need you to know one thing, Meg. Our Father created human kind himself. If He didn't like the possibility of a woman loving a woman, or a man loving a man for that matter, he wouldn't have given it to you. Besides, God truly loves human kind more than you'll ever know. He would never judge anyone for loving another."

Meg's bottom lip trembled slightly, and she averted her eyes. She laughed shakily.

"Yeah, go tell that to my parents."

"I would, if I could," Castiel said, looking at Meg seriously.

"Yeah sure, of course you would," she replied, rolling her eyes. She sniffed, and then smiled again. "But you don't need to go all Clarence on me. I'm a big girl, I can handle myself."

Castiel blinked, confused at both the mood switch and the strange name.

"Who's Clarence?"

She stared at him incredulously, raising one eyebrow.

"Jeez, know your classics."

"I'm sorry." Castiel looked back at the fire, which had almost died out at this point. Then, he felt a sharp elbow in his stomach and he turned around to look back at Meg. Seemingly, she had already forgotten her earlier sorrow.

"Don't beat yourself up." She smiled softly. "You know? I'm kinda glad you chose to be my conversational partner. You're a pretty decent guy."

Castiel smiled slightly before falling in another coughing fit. His whole frame was shaking and at the time he finished, he felt drops of sweat pearling down his forehead. He cleared his throat and tried to ignore the pain it caused. He was feeling both hot and cold at the same time; he chose to snuggle a bit deeper into the fort of blankets.

"I think we should sleep," Meg's voice said.

Castiel nodded in agreement before Meg shifted next to him and laid down. He followed her example. Soon after, he felt her forehead pressing into his arm. The touch startled him, but he didn't move; he merely closed his eyes.

"Good night, Clarence."

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm sorry, but the updates really will be slightly less frequent from now on. I'm a bit stuck on a part in chapter 8. It'd be very motivating if you left a review, though! Tell me what you think – both nice reviews and critical feedback are very much appreciated.<br>The next chapter will have the song 'Wind of Change' by The Scorpions as prologue.  
><em>


	7. Wind of Change

.

VII.

_The future's in the air  
>I can feel it everywhere<br>Blowing with the wind of change_

Dean was in an exceptionally good mood. His day had started with another bacon burger – the main reason being that he still hadn't bothered to do any grocery shopping – and a call from Sammy, who first seemed suspicious of Dean's sudden cheerfulness, but later in the conversation joined him with a few cheesy jokes and good, ol' bitchy remarks instead of the constant carefulness. For a moment, it felt like he was back in the old days.

When he arrived at work, he had pleasantly surprised Bobby by being early for once. After a cup of coffee, Dean was told to go work on a car that had come in earlier that morning. It was quite an easy job; he finished within two hours so he decided to go check on the car he had been working on the day before. As he had already thought, he had fixed the problem; satisfied with himself, he went looking for Bobby to report his progress. He found him in his kitchen, and before he knew it, a bottle of beer was pressed into his hands.

Dean found out that there weren't any other cars to work on for today, so he just finished this beer and started another one before he realized that he could be working on his Impala at this very moment. So he excused himself and made his way to garage D.

The smile never left Dean's face while he was tinkering with his car. He didn't even know why, but he was quite excited for tonight. He had already mentally listed a few questions he'd like to ask Castiel, and a few places they should definitely visit.

"So, what's her name?" Without Dean even noticing, Bobby had entered the garage and sat down on a box near him. Dean looked up for a second before continuing his work.

"Whose name?" he asked, slightly confused.

"Of that chick you're about to bang," Bobby said drily. Dean looked up again with a shocked face that clearly had an unspoken 'what?!' written upon it. Bobby smirked, and shrugged innocently. "I've known you all your life, boy. I know that look on your face. You've either won a life time of free pies, or you're going on a date tonight."

"I'm not gonna bang anyone tonight," Dean said resolutely and went back to work, a small frown forming on his face.

"Then _what_," he heard Bobby ask, or rather, demand.

Dean rolled his eyes and glared at Bobby. "I'm just in a good mood, okay? Ain't got nothing to do with chicks or somethin'."

Bobby was quiet for a moment, and Dean continued his work in silence. His own defensiveness had surprised even himself, and while he was tinkering some further, he tried to figure out why he was even being this way.

"What's _his_ name, then?" Bobby asked a while later.

Dean just ignored his question for a minute before putting down the wrench he was holding, and looking at Bobby.

"Castiel," he said. "But like I said, it ain't a date. He's just some dude who's new in town and I'm gonna show him his way around, okay?"

"Oh really," Bobby drawled. "When, again?"

"After work," Dean answered shortly.

"So you're gonna show him around town while it's dark? Sounds like one of your better ideas."

Dean blinked and realized Bobby was right. It really _was _kinda stupid to decide to give someone a tour around town while said person couldn't even see where they were going. Suddenly, the remains of Dean's good mood turned into anxiousness, gnawing at his stomach. What if Castiel had only agreed to make Dean shut up and stop bothering him about it? He shook his head, and decided to stop thinking about it. He was just going to go where and when he was expected; if Castiel didn't show up, it was his loss, right?

Dean was glad when Bobby didn't press the matter. They ended up working on the car together for another few hours until Bobby left to prepare his dinner. This was also the moment that Dean decided that it would be a good idea to leave early today so that he could wash off the oil and sweat before meeting Castiel. The gnawing, anxious feeling still hadn't left Dean's body. But, he reminded himself, the man had seemed earnestly excited when Dean had proposed to meet him again.

So Dean took a quick shower and a neglected bar of chocolate he found in an otherwise empty drawer before driving back to the street where he had dropped Castiel off. He made sure to park at the other side of the road though, definitely not wanting to have another meeting with the real owners of the house he had thought to be Castiel's. He was a bit early, but somehow, Dean imagined Castiel to be someone to get to appointments early rather than later, so he kept his guard up.

Unfortunately, Dean seemed to be wrong. After waiting for half an hour, Dean had already cleared two levels of Candy Crush and nearly hurled his phone through the window because of Flappy Bird, but Castiel was still nowhere to be seen. With a sigh, Dean put his phone away, and looked around in a futile attempt to find someone in a tan trench coat. The only thing he saw was that it had started to snow. He muttered a curse under his breath and turned up the heat of the Challenger. It wasn't that he was cold; he just hated the mere idea of it, and tried to shoo it away with over excessive warmth.

Minutes passed and with every minute, a bit of Dean's confidence did, too. His fingers nervously drummed on the steering wheel and his eyes flicked back to the street every few seconds. The darkness had now completely taken over the world, and he was quite sure that Castiel had either forgotten or decided not to come. It was probably the second option.

He felt so stupid. He should have seen it earlier; how Castiel had reacted to him when he came closer, how he had tried to politely reject his offers. The anxious feeling twisted and turned and slowly formed itself back into the black hole that had been absent for two glorious days. Dean just stared into the distance for a few minutes, giving the last remains of his hope a chance to leave. He half-heartedly looked around once more to make sure there still wasn't any sign of a man in a trench coat and then drove away with a deep sigh.

Everything in him screamed to go home and go to bed and never get out of it again, but the rational part of Dean's mind told him that there were better things to do with his life than moping around. Like, for example, buying groceries, because he had officially run out of food this morning. He took a quick look at his watch to find out that he had exactly 23 minutes left before every shop near him would close.

Dean vaguely wondered why this all was affecting him so much; sure, the man had kind of turned his life around and all that, but that didn't immediately mean that he was supposed to stay in it, right? Maybe it was for the best. Maybe he should just try to scramble back the pieces of his old life and put them back together as well as possible and maybe he shouldn't allow any strangers into his life just yet.

Before Dean could think any further, he realized he had already passed the convenience store he usually went to. He cursed and started looking for a parking spot, which turned out to be harder than expected. Apparently he wasn't the only one who went shopping a few minutes before closing time.

When he found a free spot at last, he still had to walk for he-didn't-want-to-know-how-many minutes until he'd reach the shop. He pushed his hands deep into his pockets and hid as much of his chin in his coat's collar as was physically possible, and jogged the distance. He squinted his eyes, as the snow was trying to blind him and soon his nose began to ache. It was so damn freakin' cold. He really couldn't imagine how anyone could ever like winter.

He felt relieved when he finally entered the warm shop, but it soon turned into annoyance when he was told that the shop was going to close in five minutes. He quickly explained that he really, _really_ needed some food and then ran into the store to do some speed shopping. He grabbed some bread, another box of hamburgers, a few apples and a dozen eggs, then thoughtfully stared at the shelf with pies and ditched the apples for an apple pie. What was the difference, anyway.

This entire time, he felt the employees staring at him, so he decided he'd just come back another time and eat a hamburger with eggs for dinner. He paid, and when he left the store, the door was immediately locked behind him.

Dean wrapped the handle of the plastic bag that contained his groceries around his wrist and put his hands back in his pockets. It was still snowing; Dean glared at the little snowflakes performing their delicate dance in their fall from the sky and then started walking back to his car.

A not very healthy sounding cough to his right made him slow down. He looked up and saw a small fire, which's light revealed a girl with messy brown hair and another human figure that was wrapped in some dirty looking rags. The girl was kneeling down in front of the other and seemed to be speaking to them. Dean almost felt bad for them because they had to be outside in this kind of weather, but he was way too busy pitying himself to care; it was not like he could help them, anyway.  
>He was about to continue his walk to the car, when another cough stopped him. It sounded bad. And somehow also familiar. Dean frowned and tried to get another look at the two hobos when the person that was wrapped in the blankets shifted slightly so that the light of the fire gave a better view of them. Dean froze and just stared for a moment.<p>

"Son of a bitch."

The girl's eyes snapped to Dean; she frowned as he quickly made his way towards them.

"The fuck are you-" she started, but was interrupted by Dean who, not very subtly, shoved her away and knelt down in front of the miserable looking man who was violently shivering with his eyes half closed.

"Cas, what the fuck are you doing here?" Dean asked urgently, gently nudging his shoulder. "Castiel?"

"He isn't talking," he heard the girl next to him say. Dean pulled his eyes away from Castiel to look at her, his hand still holding the other man's shoulder. "So, let me take a guess; you're Dean?"

"What?" Dean nearly snapped and then looked back at Castiel again. "Eh, yeah, whatever that's worth. But what the hell is Cas doing here?"

"He's here because your sorry ass didn't even notice he had lost his home," she drawled, and shuffled a bit closer; she smiled sardonically but her eyes were flaming. "Y'know, he's been talking about you all day. He made you sound like some kind of hero, but let me tell you something. Someone who can't even recognize when his friend is in trouble is a worthless piece of shit."

"Why, thank you," Dean said cynically. Suddenly, he understood. This is was the reason why Castiel hadn't wanted to be taken home or couldn't give a phone number and why he had been so damn hungry the day he met him. He felt a pang of guilt sear through him; why hadn't he noticed? "Just so you know, I only met him two days ago. You're full of crap."

The girl frowned slightly. "That's not what he told me."

Dean sighed exasperatedly. "Then what did he tell you? Never mind, I don't have time for this bullshit."

At that moment, a raw voice sounded in front of him.

"Dean." Said man quickly averted his eyes back to Castiel, who was looking at him with a radiant smile and glassy eyes.

"Cas," Dean said breathlessly and the hand that had still been on Castiel's shoulder quickly wandered off to his cheek, checking its temperature. He was burning with fever. "You were totally out, man. How are you feeling? How did you even end up here?"

"Get a room, you two," Dean heard the girl mutter.

"Shut the fuck up," he hissed in return, his eyes still fixated on Castiel. The other man just smiled until his eyes closed again; the smile slowly faded.

"Shit," Dean muttered and shook his shoulders again. "C'mon, stay with me, buddy."

Castiel blinked a few times before his eyes focused on Dean.

"I'm not feeling well," he said hoarsely; as if to prove his point he started coughing again. Dean could hear slime rattling in the other man's lungs.

Dean was panicking slightly. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't just leave him here because he'd most likely die. Bringing him to the hospital was no option, as the man probably didn't have health insurance. He could take him home, but that would be kinda weird.  
>One more look at Castiel made him resolutely change his mind, however.<p>

"C'mere," Dean muttered, and moved the blankets so that he could grab Castiel's armpits and drag him up. "I'm taking you home, okay? You're gonna be fine. I got you."

He heard some gagging sounds in the background; when he looked, he saw the girl with her arms defensively crossed over her chest looking at them.

"Are you just gonna stand there and watch?" Dean said, rather infuriated.

"I'd have offered to help you, but I remember being told to – oh, what was it again? Shut the fuck up, perhaps?" she said with a sugary smile.

Dean incredulously shook his head and grabbed Castiel a bit tighter around his waist.

"You're fucking sickening, you know that?" he spat, before turning his had to Castiel, who seemed to be nodding off again. "Come on, Cas. We're leaving."

It took him a lot of effort, but they reached his car eventually. Dean helped Castiel in and buckled his belt for him. He closed the door; when he turned around, he suddenly stood face to face with the brown haired girl from earlier.

"Woah," he half-shouted. "Private space! Why the hell are you following me?"

The girl took a step back with an indistinct smile.

"You forgot something, sunshine."

Dean looked down and saw the plain white grocery bag in her hand. He frowned and grabbed it away from her before stalking away to the other side of the car.

"You're welcome, by the way," he heard her voice behind him. Dean sighed exasperatedly and dramatically turned around to face her again.

"Thank you _so_ _fucking_ much," Dean replied. "I hope that's what you wanted to hear, because – I don't know? I have a man in my car who's sick to death?"

"A man who actually would be dead if it weren't for me." The girl came closer and stared at him with a clenched jaw. "Did you really think the blankets that kept him warm were his? Because they aren't. Let me tell you a little secret." She narrowed her eyes. "He's literally got nothing."

Dean's panic and anger dulled slightly. He quietly stared at the girl for a second before walking back to the car door where he gently took the blankets away from Castiel, who immediately started shivering again. He draped the blankets over the open car door for a moment, unzipped his own coat and covered Cas with it. He closed the door and with the blankets, he walked back to the girl, who was witnessing all this with a raised eyebrow.

"Thanks," he said shortly, and pushed the blankets in her hands. Her lips twitched up in a smile.

"That's more like it."

Dean shivered from the cold, feeling it in all its glory now he wasn't protected by his coat. Before returning to his car, however, he took his wallet out of his pocket, looked through it and took out a bill of fifty dollars.

"Keep safe," he said curtly, and handed the money to the girl, who looked at it warily before taking it.

"I can take care of myself," she said as she tucked to bill safely away in her pocket. Then, she nodded to the car. "You better make sure he's gonna be okay. Because if he isn't, I'll know, and I will _find you_."

Something in her voice told Dean that this wasn't a joke.

* * *

><p><em>I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas! Mailaine, I hope it's clear which Meg it is now. I didn't really elaborate on it in the previous chapter, because I don't think that Castiel really notices someone's appearance, especially now, because he has only been on earth for a few days. Anyway, it's the second version of Meg, because I like her much more. c:<br>The next chapter will not have any lyrics as prologue…_


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